


sometimes things change

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:18:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you make Tobio cry?” Iwaizumi hisses. “Goddammit Oikawa, it’s like you guys haven’t left middle school at all. Stop bullying the poor kid.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes things change

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been meaning to write an Oikage fic for a while now. Guess this is it. There's just something about their potential dynamic that appeals so much to me.

With victory over Senseki still ringing in their ears, the Aoba Jousai team leaves Sendai City gymnasium in high spirits, laughter rising in the air as they clap each other on the back. Oikawa lingers in the foyer, smiling good-naturedly and gives his usual cordial replies as other team captains and coaches drift by to offer their congratulations.

“At least try to look a little more genuine,” grumbles Iwaizumi under his breath, as Oikawa flashes another wide grin at a passing coach who nods approvingly.

“What?” Oikawa manages to sound both hurt and offended. “I’m always genuine, Iwa-chan. Don’t be so rude.”

He yelps when Iwaizumi jabs him in the ribs and rubs his side ruefully. Just as he’s about to retort a pithy response to Iwaizumi, he catches sight of the Karasuno team, filing out of the gymnasium doors looking particularly subdued.

Well, they did lose. And after trying so hard too. Oikawa would feel sorry for them, but really, he’s not sorry for winning that match. And certainly not sorry for defeating Tobio in his first official match against him. He can feel his grin morph into something a little more snide, a little more self-serving just at the reminder and it must be blatantly obvious because half a second later Iwaizumi jostles him roughly, muttering, “And what’s that expression for, huh?”

But then Kageyama looks up, directly at where he and Iwaizumi are standing at the side of the foyer. They stare at each other for a few, halted moments before Kageyama abruptly tears his gaze away, and turns back to his teammates.

Seconds later, Kageyama breaks away from the rest of the Karasuno team, his face shadowed and walking away in quick, stiff strides towards the washroom on the far end of the gymnasium. The orange shrimp kid (Hinata, was it? Oikawa can’t quite remember) watches Kageyama’s retreating back with concern written all over his face, but gets distracted when baldy suddenly exclaims something.

Oikawa hums absently, keeping a side eye as Kageyama disappears into the male toilets. Kageyama’s gaze had felt like a brand during that last match. Burning into the back of his neck with every toss and every jump serve he made, spurring him on. But there was no fire in his eyes just then, not even a spark of resentment. Just blank disappointment. Poor Tobio must be feeling especially down right now. If Oikawa were a better person, he’d leave the boy to wallow all by his lonesome. But seeing as he’s never been one for missed opportunities-

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says breezily, giving a brief wave as he moves to follow Kageyama.

A hand on his shirt stops him, yanking him back. Iwaizumi’s eyes are narrowed, and his voice is heavy with meaning when he says, “Don’t do anything stupid, Oikawa.”

Oikawa widens his eyes comically, and puts on his most innocent smile asking _who me?_ Iwaizumi shoves him, clicking his tongue in disgust and then Oikawa is busy trailing Kageyama’s heels.  

The moment he passes through the washroom doorway, he sees Kageyama tense over the sink, frozen in the motion of splashing water over his face. Oikawa ambles in, glancing around and wrinkling his nose in distaste. Cracked tiles, a number of urinals at the far wall and mould growing at the corners. It’s grimy and clearly doesn’t get used (or cleaned for that matter) very often. The overhead light fixtures are dim, flickering every so often.

There’s a better set of toilets closer to the foyer and next to the change rooms. It’s unlikely anyone else would come down this direction.

Kageyama straightens up at Oikawa’s approach, tension rolling off him in waves. It seems like he’s determined to ignore Oikawa, his mouth set in a thin line as he pushes past the older boy. But Oikawa catches his wrist, tugging him back and it’s clear Kageyama was not expecting resistance. He stumbles back around, brow drawn in confusion and surprise as he suddenly finds himself face to face with Oikawa.

Oikawa notes, with no small measure of delight, that he is still taller than Kageyama. _Petty_ says the disdainful voice in his head (sounding suspiciously like Iwa-chan), but Oikawa brushes it off; he’s here to _gloat_ and everything, every aspect where Oikawa still trumps Kageyama is equal game.

Kageyama doesn’t look up at him, evidently refusing to meet Oikawa’s eyes - probably hoping in vain that if he can’t avoid Oikawa, he’ll just pretend he isn’t there at all. How rude.

There’s more than a sullen pout to his lips though, more than Kageyama’s usual frown. It’s that bleak disappointment Oikawa had caught earlier. Well it’s obvious that their previous defeat would still be weighing heavily on his mind. More so for Kageyama than the rest of the team, Oikawa supposes. It’s not a surprise really. Kageyama has always regarded him with a strange mixture of jealousy and admiration. Like Oikawa was some sort of hurdle to both overcome and seek approval from.

How bitter this defeat must ring for poor Tobio, Oikawa thinks. If he’s a little smug about that thought, well, that’s not his fault. After all these years, he is still that insurmountable wall to Tobio, the distant benchmark he can’t quite reach. The standard that for all his young talent and natural skill, he’d still failed to achieve.

(How bittersweet that deep down, Oikawa knows this is only a temporary setback; he’d be a fool to think Tobio won’t surpass him within the year. It’s a little hurtful, just being another milestone in someone’s life.)

For a long moment they stand there, breaths fanning gently over each other. It’s far closer than they’ve been in years and Oikawa can see the discomfort in Kageyama's face, growing more and more evident the longer Oikawa stares at him, his gaze openly searching. Then Oikawa smiles, wide and smug, and he can almost _feel_ the moment Kageyama's stomach drops.

“You’ve grown up, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says, voice chiding. He slides his hand up Kageyama’s forearm, the skin prickling into goose-bumps. A sudden light pinch to the muscle of Kageyama’s upper arm and he feels the younger boy jolt. “I enjoyed our match out there, earlier today. No longer a dictator, but not quite a benevolent King yet.”

For all that Kageyama manages to unwittingly push his buttons, Oikawa knows _exactly_ how and which buttons to press with Tobio. Calling him King is a more recent button; touching him unexpectedly is an old, familiar one.

More than once had Kageyama come to him in the change rooms of Kitagawa Daiichi after practice asking Oikawa to teach him, and more than once had they ended up sprawled across the benches, panting and fumbling in the half dark. Oikawa had been raw around the edges, tinged with a burning jealousy he would never admit to and Kageyama was all too eager to please, naïve and earnest as he pushed himself to earn whatever scraps of praise Oikawa could spit out.

It probably wouldn’t be too far to surmise that Kageyama _may_ have had a crush on him, and Oikawa _may_ have been reckless enough to take advantage of that. Nobody else on the team knew about it, and they certainly didn’t behave differently towards each other outside of those sudden, heated moments.

Just their own little sordid affair. Well as much as teenage exploration can be sordid, Oikawa supposes. But it’s been two years now, and things have changed. Probably.

Right now, Kageyama isn’t pushing him away, isn’t doing anything really. Just lets his gaze flicker over to where Oikawa grips his arm, fingers digging in hard enough to indent the skin there. He just breathes quietly as if waiting for Oikawa to simply tire of him and let him go. So Oikawa pushes back at him surreptitiously, and when Kageyama stumbles back a step, he feels a tiny thrill run up his spine – the same thrill he feels when he sees victory within grasp on the court, a path opening up as clear as any epiphany he could have.

He nudges Kageyama back, and back, back, back until he’s pressed up against the tiled wall. Oikawa catches the brief light of realisation in Kageyama’s eyes, the way his hands slowly move to press into the wall behind him, the way Kageyama’s eyes lower and his head turns to look away. Oikawa’s heart is thudding, a loud and heavy beat to the new excitement coiling in his stomach.

How easily he falls back into this, Oikawa thinks. How easily both of them do.

“What do you want, Oikawa-san?” comes Kageyama’s reluctant, half mumbled response.

Oikawa slowly leans one arm against the wall, crowding Kageyama in as he brushes the back of his other hand down Kageyama’s cheek, marvelling at the softness of his skin. It’s awkwardly close and intimate, and he can sense Kageyama shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He catches Kageyama’s jaw and turns it back towards him. The moment their eyes lock, Kageyama freezes and for a split second, his face twists into something reminiscent of distress. But then it smooths into defeated blankness again, and Oikawa hums in amusement.

“Tell me to stop,” Oikawa says, though it’s more of a courtesy than a kindness. He leans in closer and closer, eyes still wide and open to watch for any reaction as he plants a chaste kiss at the corner of Tobio’s mouth.

Kageyama’s expression twitches into a moue, but he stays silent. Oikawa lets his smile spread across his face, even with his mouth still pressed to Kageyama’s lips. That’s as clear an answer as he’ll ever get.

He changes tack almost immediately, and grabs at Kageyama’s shorts, yanking them down roughly to hear Kageyama’s harsh inhale of surprise. Already half hard and with Oikawa staring down at his cock, Kageyama flushes deeply and resolutely turns away to stare at the sink beside him. Oikawa has to force laughter back down his throat, even if he can’t help his grin.

Well. Looks like some things have changed after a few years after all.

“Tobio-chan went through puberty, did he?” Oikawa coos, reaching out to touch Kageyama’s cock in an almost reverent manner. He pokes it instead, amused when it jumps and Kageyama tries to shrink even further into the wall behind him. “Little Tobio grew up too. And he’s so eager.”

Kageyama ducks his head, cheeks now painted a brilliant red. “S-shut up.”

Still grinning, Oikawa takes Kageyama’s dick in hand and strokes gently, a touch meant to tease rather than satisfy. A dribble of precum leaks from the slit and Oikawa thumbs over it, smearing the wetness down one side of Kageyama’s length.

Then he lifts his hand to Kageyama’s mouth, dragging his wet thumb across dry, chapped lips. Kageyama’s face pulls into a slight twist of dismay but he doesn’t resist when Oikawa pushes his thumb into his mouth, jaw slack enough for Oikawa to slip in behind his teeth and press against the warm slickness of his tongue.

“Were you always this dirty?” Oikawa murmurs, his voice light and mild.

Tobio looks wonderful like this, he thinks, all faux reluctance in his eyes and the debauched precociousness of his body. Back when he was younger perhaps, there had been more determination, more openness, vulnerability in Kageyama’s movements. He’s a little more restrained now, more controlled but the small upward twitches of his hips, the slick glide of his tongue, and the nearly silent noises from his throat are as telling as ever. Oikawa knows that those awkward fumbles back in middle school played a large part in influencing Kageyama’s physical responses in the present moment, the willingness with which he accepted Oikawa’s advances just now, and the thought pleases him more than it should.

(There’s a tiny part of him that whispers _guilty_ but god, he doesn’t care right now when he has Tobio like _this_.)

Oikawa pushes two of his fingers into Kageyama’s mouth, and Tobio, bless him, only widens his eyes for a fraction of a second before sucking, laving his tongue around and between them. His cheeks are so red they must be burning, Oikawa thinks but he lets himself enjoy the sensation of Kageyama licking around his fingers, rubbing against the softness of his mouth as he slowly draws them in and out. Then Oikawa whispers “Good” and Kageyama falters, the tiniest of shivers grabbing hold of his shoulders and his tongue curling shyly around Oikawa’s fingers as he pulls them out all the way.

A string of saliva hangs connected between his spit-slippery fingers and Tobio’s shiny lips. It’s obscene and Oikawa can’t help but stare, entranced.

Then Oikawa grabs hold of Kageyama's dick again, this time stroking hard and fast from the onset as Kageyama gasps, lurching forward with a start and clutching at Oikawa’s shirt. When Kageyama leans his forehead to rest on Oikawa's shoulder with his lip trembling, Oikawa asks, "Are you hiding, Tobio-chan?" but he receives no answer.

He can hear Kageyama’s soft pants; feels the breath fanning gently over his neck as he squirms in Oikawa’s grip. His fingers, still clenched in Oikawa’s shirt, are twisting distractedly as he curls forward, unable to concentrate on anything but the pressure of Oikawa’s hand on his length. It's probably more intense than the younger boy is used to, Oikawa thinks with just the tiniest feeling of pity, but he doesn't let up.

From this position, Oikawa can see down the back of Kageyama's shirt, the pale knobs of his spine. The way his skin shivers, over the curve of his back. It's disgustingly vulnerable, ridiculously innocent and Oikawa pulls a slight face, unhappy to think that Tobio really almost came close to beating him. Oikawa wonders sometimes, stomach clenching with nausea, exactly how wide the gap is between them. Just how much longer does he have until his own inevitable overthrowing, until all his efforts are rendered moot and void?

(It’s not fair, and if Oikawa were honest, he’d admit to stomping his foot in frustration in embarrassing number of times at the end of practice, long after most of his teammates have left if only because he knows Iwa-chan would angrily scold him for thinking such thoughts - but Oikawa can’t _help_ it, can’t help what he worries about.)

He's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't notice his grip suddenly tightening. Oikawa only has a second to catch the whimper that trails Kageyama’s exhale before the world is suddenly spinning, and he finds himself collapsed over the younger boy, now seated on the cold, grimy floor of the washroom.

“Hey! Don’t cling on to me if you’re going to fall,” Oikawa grouches, wincing at the suddenly burst of pain from his jarred knees. Good thing he still had his knee pads on.

He absently examines his hand, wet and sticky with precum and spit; honestly, Tobio is really quite lucky Oikawa didn’t accidently yank his dick off. Kageyama on the other hand is breathing hard, still holding tight onto Oikawa’s shirt. His legs are splayed as open as his shorts allow, lips still wet and eyes half shut as he tries to regain some semblance of control. He looks like a mess, and it sends a bolt of arousal shooting straight down to Oikawa’s groin. On that note, Oikawa gingerly grasps Kageyama’s length back in hand, stroking lightly until he hears Kageyama hiccup another whimper. He must be close now, Oikawa thinks with satisfaction. He knows the signs as well as the back of his hand - Tobio always gets louder, even as he struggles to keep the noises in, until he's aching and sobbing for breath like he's coming utterly undone.

It’s at this point that Oikawa suddenly halts in his ministrations, smugly enjoying the quiet noise of desperation Kageyama lets out. “Do you want me to keep going?” he asks, running a single finger up the underside of Kageyama’s cock teasingly, scraping his nail gently over the sensitive head. Kageyama jerks at the sensation with a sharp inhale. A firm rub over the sore spot soothes the sting and Kageyama relaxes back down. The slightly wary glint now in Kageyama’s eyes stirs a memory deep in Oikawa, and a wicked thought drifts across his mind.

He inches his hand down further, palm gliding over Kageyama’s soft balls with a cursory knead that has the younger boy swallowing hard. Then his fingers brush over Kageyama’s hole, pressing slightly and Kageyama jerks violently, his arm almost instantly coming up to push Oikawa back.

“No, don’t-!” Kageyama’s voice catches in his throat, high and anxious. He bites his lip, pushing harder against the larger boy to no avail. “Oikawa-san…”

They hadn’t really done this kind of thing, back in middle school. Once or twice maybe, and Kageyama’s face had been twisted into an unhappy grimace the entire time. It can’t have been that painful (Oikawa liked using his own fingers well enough alone in his room, so it’s not like he didn’t know what to do), but Kageyama always flinched whenever Oikawa tried anything like this.

Still, Oikawa just likes to push his buttons - his goal today is to have a little fun, not genuinely distress poor Tobio. So he withdraws his hand, making little shushing noises to both placate and embarrass Kageyama. “Don’t worry, Tobio-chan. Your virtue is safe.” Then he amends, “Ah well, not exactly.”

Bright red flushes on Kageyama’s cheeks again, but he lowers his arm nonetheless. Oikawa nods approvingly, and just for good measure whispers, “That’s good, Tobio-chan. You’re doing well, just let it go.”

And Kageyama shudders hard, biting his lip hard enough to leave pale teeth marks. Oikawa isn’t so stingy with praising Kageyama now (even when it really is half mockery), not when he knows how much Kageyama craves it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa sees Kageyama’s hands shift as if about to reach for his own dick and finish jerking himself off. But just as he moves, Oikawa grabs Kageyama’s wrists in both his hands and pins them back against the cold tiled wall as Kageyama struggles briefly, biting off a moan of frustration.

“Say ‘please’, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa says in a singsong. Hearing the desperation and need in Kageyama’s choked off noises is sending blood straight to his dick, making him thrum with impatience.

It's a battle of wills for a few tense moments, Oikawa keeping his lips stretched in a smirk as he waits for Kageyama to give in. Then he feels the strain leave Kageyama's arms and the younger boy drops his head.

God, he could savour these kinds of moments forever; two victories in one day and he has Tobio right under his thumb for both of them.

For a long second, the room is wrapped in silence, broken only by the muffled sound of water rushing through the pipes overhead. Distantly, Oikawa can hear the dull hum of voices far away from this bathroom, far from this moment as he waits, watching Kageyama’s chest heave with stuttered breaths. Then-

“Please,” Kageyama finally croaks. “Please, I need- "

"Well done, Tobio-chan," Oikawa murmurs, letting a pleased note sound in his voice and Kageyama draws an almost pained sounding breath, curling tighter into himself.

Oikawa has to stop himself from affectionately patting the younger boy on the head. Tobio could be so unbelievably cute sometimes (in a vaguely irritating, naive kind of way).

As promised, Oikawa resumes jerking Kageyama off, this time quick and efficient. It doesn't take long to bring Kageyama back to the brink of climax, and soon the noises spill from Kageyama like a veritable waterfall, absolutely filthy and pornographic (and it's like a victory cry to Oikawa's ears).

"Ah- a-ah, please, Oikawa-san," Kageyama chokes on his own breath, briefly halting the litany of pleas. "Come on, please- ah, please, _please_."

“You did well on the court today,” Oikawa says. Another wicked idea has bloomed in his mind. He feels Kageyama twitch in his hand, hears him fall into an apprehensive silence. “You tried so hard didn’t you? Your first official match with Oikawa-senpai.”

Kageyama is shaking his head mutely, eyes squeezed shut but his panting betrays him, hot and heavy at Oikawa’s neck.  

“I could see you try to get along with your teammates,” Oikawa continues, increasing his speed and tightening his grip. He adds an upward twist to the motion and Kageyama is gasping again, unable to hold back. “That giant, shrimpy-chan. I saw that high-five,” he says with a laugh. “How embarrassing.”

“S-shut up,” Kageyama says between breaths, squirming a little now.

Still, his hips rise to meet Oikawa’s hand in little stuttered thrusts and his sobbing breaths get harsher and louder as his head falls forward to hide into the older boy’s chest. One clammy hand is clawing into Oikawa’s arm, blunt nails still managing to leave stinging scratches. Oikawa slips his own hand up Kageyama’s back, under his shirt and firmly digs into the strained muscle there, feeling the tightness being wound higher and higher by Oikawa’s own words.

“You did good, so good,” Oikawa croons, and Kageyama answers with a hopeless whimper, voice breaking. “But-”

A particularly rough pull, then Kageyama gasps out loud, and his hands are clutching Oikawa’s shirt again, pulling him in close as he shudders through his release. Oikawa nestles his chin into the crook of Kageyama’s shoulder, almost fondly and whispers into his ear, “-not quite good enough.”

With his clean hand, Oikawa tilts Kageyama's chin up and kisses him hard, all hunger and cold possessiveness, riding the thrill of just _how much_ he still controls Tobio. Kageyama doesn't respond - he freezes in shock, clearly unprepared and Oikawa can see both hurt and surprise in his still dilated pupils, gaze unfocused.

But then Kageyama is kissing him back, with all the clumsy fervour of youth. Half lidded eyes slide shut and Kageyama lets Oikawa take what he wants; lets him swallow his moans of confusion, the small hitches in his breath. It's messy and wet, disgustingly sloppy open mouth kisses and suddenly Kageyama is shaking in his arms.

He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Kageyama is crying. There is wetness on his cheeks, and the taste of salt has eased into the kiss.

Oikawa pulls back, watching as Kageyama presses the palms of his hands into his streaming eyes. His shoulders are trembling. The younger boy hunches over, silent except for small gasps as he cries out the overwhelming disappointment of failing after trying _so hard_.

Years of striving only to find he still is not good enough.

(At least, that’s what Oikawa imagines is going through Kageyama’s head. If he thinks harder, a little deeper, he knows that that last one isn’t Kageyama. But he doesn’t want to think about that. Not yet.)

With a quietest of sighs, Oikawa threads his clean hand through Kageyama’s hair and pulls him into an awkward embrace. If he’s honest with himself, he probably went a bit too far. Was a little too cruel. But Oikawa’s never been the type to say sorry easily, and Kageyama will never entirely push Oikawa away.

Still, it’s a surprise when Tobio manages to quiet down, obviously not too disturbed that his source of comfort had just verbally torn him down not minutes ago.

Things haven’t really changed since middle school after all, Oikawa thinks.

\---

When he leaves the washroom, it doesn’t take him long to spot Iwaizumi, still at the same spot where he had left him. He strides over, hands in his pockets and pastes on his usual smile (like always, it never quite works with Iwaizumi).

“Where the hell did you go? It’s been- ” Iwaizumi checks his phone. “Over 15 minutes. We’re almost ready to leave.”

Then he catches sight of the deep red scratch marks on Oikawa’s arm and his eyes narrow. “Oi, what are- ”

Oikawa pulls a face. “I don’t suppose I could ask you to pretend not to see anything?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes suddenly focus on something behind Oikawa and the moment he goes red, Oikawa knows the game is up. Predictable as always, Iwaizumi seizes him by the shirt and drags him in close, furiously whispering, “What the fuck did you do, Asskawa?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa can see Kageyama exit the sliding foyer doors. Thankfully, he looks somewhat put back together, volleyball uniform on neat and proper. His eyes would probably look a little puffy and red to any discerning passers-by, but Oikawa doesn’t place much faith in the Karasuno team. Well maybe Mr Refreshing would pick something up, but he highly doubts Tobio would say anything.

“Why do you always jump to conclusions, Iwa-chan? That hurts my feelings,” Oikawa complains, reaching down into his bag to look for his jacket. Probably best if nobody else sees those marks.

“Did you make Tobio cry?” Iwaizumi hisses. “Goddammit Oikawa, it’s like you guys haven’t left middle school at all. Stop bullying the poor kid.”

“Whaaat?” Oikawa says, letting his voice turn into a whine. “He’s the one bullying me!”

At this point, Iwaizumi gives up and just socks Oikawa in the stomach. Which, truth be told, Oikawa probably deserved even if Iwaizumi has no clue that Oikawa did more than simply bully Tobio. Iwaizumi glares at him suspiciously when Oikawa doesn’t reply with something blithe and petty. Looks to the angry red marks on his arm again. But he doesn’t say anything further on the matter, only sighs and slaps Oikawa a little more gently (read, nearly just as hard, _ow Iwa-chan_ ) over the head as he says, “C’mon, let’s go. You’ve already held us up for too long.”

As they leave, Oikawa can’t help but glance back to the Karasuno bus, where Kageyama stands a little awkwardly to the side as the rest of the team chatter amongst themselves. The orange shrimp kid bounces over to him, and judging from Kageyama’s slowly reddening face, has tactfully pointed out his red eyes. Kageyama yells something incoherent, and grabs the shorter boy by the head, but then he looks up and Oikawa blinks as their eyes meet.

For a second, Oikawa wonders if this is the last time things will be this way.

Then Kageyama turns away, face flushed and a small rush of satisfaction threads through Oikawa as he thinks to himself _maybe not_ , and follows his team away.


End file.
